


Exit, Pursued by a Beer

by Unnethe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 'save the pub' kinda vibe too, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Ben thinks he's slick but he's a soft idiot boy, Canon Age Difference, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Future Pregnancy, Han can see where this is going, Han thinks his son needs all the help he can get, It's a good thing Ben's pretty cos he ain't smart, Locked In, Loss of Virginity, Love at First Sight, Minor Finn/Rose Tico, Rey Needs A Hug, Size Difference, Smuggler Ben Solo, Solo men can't help themselves around women who aren't impressed with their bullshit, Unrequited Love, Unsafe Sex, Virgin Rey (Star Wars), a little angst and some smut, he's not wrong, more like cocky bar patron to begrudging acceptance to lovers, persistent lovable dumbass Ben Solo, prickly hard-shelled Rey with a soft interior, reluctant bar owner Rey needs a break, space travel as love language, then requited enthusiastically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unnethe/pseuds/Unnethe
Summary: Cocky, second-generation smuggler Ben Solo eventually learns the direct approach doesn’t get far with short-tempered and overworked bar owner Rey. It just takes him a while, kid must really love the taste of his own foot. Like nerfherder, like peedunky.--“Wanna burn sky ’til we see lines? Make a short jump?”She realises as she’s giving it that this is her first full, unreserved, joyful grin in his direction. Her first loud, elated laugh.Ben is motionless. He looks like he might cry.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 26
Kudos: 161





	Exit, Pursued by a Beer

**Author's Note:**

> I felt s o f t 
> 
> This is also me trying out a one-shot, amidst my WIP (and my other WIPs because my brain is hyperfixation all the way down) and attempting to write less explicit smut. But then I googled what the difference is supposed to be between E and M ratings... and it's still an E. Gold star for trying.
> 
> Slang glossary in the endnotes.

The first time, it was just another superfluous request. A proposition.

She noticed a new raven haired patron with shadowed, angular features slouched on a stool usually inhabited by one of her regulars at Splicer’s.

Still dwarfing those around him though, and how the kriff was that wavy hair so shiny? When he had smudges of what looked like grease on his rather pale forearms and was wearing a scruffy shirt and open waistcoat like she’d seen on local dirt flyers here on Allanteen.

Her frisson of interest was quickly pushed aside by an incoming order, and she’d been focussed on pulling the pint while scowling as little as possible – Rose claimed it wasn’t good for business – until she heard a deep, teasing voice she definitely didn’t recognise.

Just low enough to catch her ears amid the evening hubbub.

Did _someone_ really just say she worked that keg tap so well he was jealous of it and could she pull him one too, in _that_ unmistakable tone?

Her day had been too long for this.

Rey’s brunette head jerked up and her matching gaze met heated, playful eyes (beneath really very _annoyingly_ long lashes). Deep whiskey flecked with amber under the soft, old-fashioned lights.

He pressed his curving lips together and stretched out an over-sized hand to run a finger over the keg handle she was still gripping.

“Hi, I’m Kylo. I’ll take a beer, and as for my other offer it really would be my pleasure to return the favour.”

Yeah. _He_ did.

_“E chu ta!_ What the _frang_ is your problem?”

So that was also the first time she asked him to leave and simply turned her back on his request for her details. His baffled face suggesting this usually went over differently.

She definitely ignored the over-warm sensation on the light sand skin of her chest and neck (paled by much time indoors), and the swoop and flutter low in her belly as he crowded against her _just slightly_ by the door.

Running this business suddenly and unexpectedly inherited at eighteen – one that came with convoluted, cloudy accounting and an ageing building – had given her more than enough work for the past two years. Far removed from childish dreams of seeing the galaxy, maybe flying something of her own.

But it kept her fed which was a welcome change. She had a couple of friends, somewhere warm and clean to sleep. It was an improvement.

Rey was far too busy to be chewed up and spat out by some over-confident flyboy, judging by the utility belts around his broad torso that had brushed against her on his way out the door.

* * *

The second time was a week and a half later. She was dirtying her practical trousers.

Crawling around trying to level a wobbly table not long after opening when she spotted very reminiscent tousled, dark hair protruding above one of her high-backed booths, being raked through by a hand she could pick out in a line up.

Solely because it really was _unnecessarily_ large.

And attached to someone who’d annoyed her so much her mind kept flicking back to him. Heating in the days since, with anger.

Her heart-rate picked up. She needed to go over.

To tell him to leave.

“ _Chuba!_ You overgrown peedunky! I told you not to come back, get out of—”

The words died on her tongue as she noticed Kylo’s tight-lipped smirk of amusement was matched by an even bigger copy on the man across from him. A greyed, well-lined mirror sporting similar work-worn clothes.

“Kid’s been acting up again, huh? Meeting you, it figures.”

The assessing hazel eyes twinkled at her and shot a knowing look toward the man she’d realised must be his son. Seeing them together, the same loose-limbed, wide-legged posture – yeah, that explained some things.

“I’m sure Ben’s got an apology for whatever he’s done on the tip of his tongue, right kid?”

The gruff voice was tinged with exasperated affection, but—

_Ben?_

Her glare must have said a lot. _Ben_ unfurled himself from the booth with more awkward haste than that previous smooth confidence. Rubbing the back of his neck before grasping at her hands planted angrily on the table.

She was jostled and unprepared for the beseeching nervousness in his expression as he looked down at her. The flush across his large nose, voice made sweet and earnest.

Endearing, this other side of him, she could begrudgingly admit.

“ _Yeah_ about that. Kylo is, uh, more of a… a _business_ name—”

“Kriff _Ben_ , ofax ets burrin tehn,” came sternly from her right.

“But yes, I _do_ apologise for making you uncomfortable.” He squeezed her hands for a long moment and his eyes gained a little heat, the corners of his mouth a dimple, enough to show a crooked tooth.

_Oh dear_ —

“Let me take you out, make it up to you one on one. And also buy you dinner of course, sweetheart. _Your name is…?_ ” He stepped closer.

A deep sigh from their lone audience. “ _Kid,_ _I swear to_ — damp down your power core.”

* * *

The third time, Rey was in a foul mood. A drinks shipment was late that week meaning days of grumpy patrons with tighter grips on their credits. She nibbled at the nail of her index finger and poured over the accounts while Rose and Finn tended the bar out front, trying to find some positive angle she’d missed but coming up empty-handed. Again.

The half pint she’d allowed herself to aid her increasingly headache-inducing work warmed on the desk beside her.

Feeling progressively out of her depth and pushed down month by month under the weight of this business solely upon her shoulders.

A creak indicated the opening of the back door.

As Rey had a flash of hope it would finally be her shipment a dark mop of hair and broad shoulders elbowed into her office, thrusting forward a bunch of yellow star-shaped flowers with a tentative grin.

Something about this offering made her flare with anger.

How _dare_ he think he knew what she needed when he had no idea how difficult things were, and where was that _kriffing_ delivery?

As if she would simply spread her legs and he could be on his way again in a few minutes without a second thought, just _one more thing_ she’d be left alone afterward.

His grin faltered. “Hard day sweetheart? Maybe I can—”

The beer was in her hand and slopping forward before she even registered the genuine concern in his tone.

Yet if anything, as he wiped a large palm over his face and dripped onto his waistcoat, his gaze was set to something more determined.

Taking the empty glass gently from her shaking hand, he set it filled with the flowers on her desk.

Resting his fingers on the corroded Alpha-3 Nimbus fuel injector she’d eagerly pilfered from scrap in hanger bay three and used as a paper weight.

“I’m on the Millennium Falcon. Corellian light freighter, the hangar workers all know the one. We’re regular as anything in this spaceport now.” His tone had a coaxing note.

Her pulse sped up. Surely not a YT-series?

There was a knowing edge to his smile as he tapped her paper weight and walked out the door with a faint waft of hops.

Rey stamped down on the bubble of something foreign in her chest. She wasn’t going to invite in any more difficulties to her life, deciding to give her staff his description even as a floral scent grew close around her and her fingers strayed to trace the unfamiliar petals. She loved yellow. Like the sun she didn’t see enough of these days.

* * *

The fourth time the problem was Rose. Her dear friend was loyal and _always_ helped as much as she could… but she was also easy to get laughing, outgoing, and soft-hearted.

Which is how Rey tromped down the steps from her bare-bones upstairs apartment after falling asleep face down on some paperwork, to find a man meeting _exactly_ the description she knew Rose had heard was no longer welcome – holding court on a bar stool.

Her friend leaned on the pitted wood bar top as much her short stature allowed, head of straight black hair nodding along while she chortled at his dramatic gesticulations.

Something twisted sourly in her gut as she stomped up to poke Ben in his very firm, warm shoulder, which was ridiculous because she’d rolled her eyes for months at Rose and Finn’s long glances when they each thought the other wasn’t looking.

And ridiculous because— for other reasons too.

“Rey, hi!” Rose raised her eyebrows, pink suffusing the light golden brown of her cheeks, and scampered to the other end of the bar. Ben turned slowly, pleased look turning apprehensive on seeing her thunderous face.

“ _Sleemo!_ Glad to see you’re having so much fun with my staff.” Her voice contained a generous splash of acid and he tilted his head, expression settling into something curious above her.

“ _Pateesa_. You know I’d rather be shooting the bantha poodoo with you… _Rey_. Seems like you need to catch a break around here,” he answered softly, searching her face.

She counted his moles as she counted her breaths for a few long moments, ignoring the uncoiling tension in her shoulders and setting her jaw.

“I’m not going to be your belt-notch for this starport, Ben. _R’iia’s shorts_ , give it up!”

A flash of what looked like genuine hurt passed over his eyes, surprising her.

“Maybe I came on too strong but you’ve had my full and _singular_ attention since that first beer, sweetheart. I assure you.”

“Which first beer?” She narrowed her gaze, but for the first time didn’t yell or throw anything at his endearments.

His infectious laughter followed him out into the night. She tried to bite back her smile.

* * *

The sixth time was more of a distance connection.

She'd barely slammed her stairwell door before Finn charged toward her from behind the bar. Eager and excited, his dark eyes wide and with a full grin.

“Rey! You’ll _never believe_ what I’ve just managed to score us!”

Some good news around here _would_ be welcome, with the pipe under the bar deciding that yesterday right before opening was as good a time as any to blow.

He didn’t even wait for her to answer, practically vibrating with information – knowing balancing the books was increasingly difficult and it was his pay-cheque on the line too.

“Corellian whiskey! The _genuine_ deal! I’ve got us a regular supplier at a ridiculously good price!”

That would be quite a score, even stop her sinking. Especially at a busy spaceport like this – an easy way to draw in custom. But she’d learned to not raise her expectations long ago.

“So did he approach you? What’s the catch?”

“Yeah, and I almost didn’t believe it either but he’s seriously legit— well not _legit_ in one sense… but a list of recommendations as long as my arm!” His own deep warm brown hand and forearm shot out for emphasis. “Older guy called Han Solo, been in the business a while and wants to set up a regular link here, it’s on one of his frequent routes.”

Something prickled at Rey’s awareness and she frowned – and when Finn gave the man’s description she was sure she was right.

Not just spacers then – lumrunners.

_Ben Solo_.

She turned the name over in her mouth.

Finn babbled enthusiastically as he handed over the proposed contract – it _was_ a very, _very_ good arrangement. Hard to refuse.

Impossible to, if this decaying building had anything to say about it.

“Hard case guy but he gave me a real genuine vibe. Told some funny stories about the son he’s in business with.” Finn rubbed a hand over the nape of his tight black curls. “Said he could be an idiot sometimes but was eager to help on this job and always put in the effort when he really wanted something. So I guess we’ll be meeting him as well.”

Rey bit back a sigh of resigned annoyance as she told Finn he’d done great and this _would_ be a much needed relief.

But something deceitful inside her had the nerve to twist with a new sort of flattered gratification too.

* * *

The ninth time she was in the supply room after-hours, stacking crates of whiskey and related goods Han thought would sell well with Ben _very_ much present and in the flesh. Stripped to his sweat-drenched, half-open shirt in fact.

She tried to ignore both his teasing compliments and heaving chest, and definitely not giggle or smile at him so much he get too many ideas.

Rey had the feeling it wasn’t working – more than once had felt his warm expanse against her back when he insisted on being particularly helpful with a box.

The hangar workers had required little encouragement to get talking about the Millennium Falcon and she itched to question him about the specifics of a still-flying, historic example one of her childhood space aviation interests.

It was the sound of the storeroom door shutting and very deliberately locking behind them that insisted on the opportunity.

Ben tried the handle as if he knew what to expect and settled on the ground against a crate with a chuckle, shaking his head. Bending his long legs out in front of him and fixing her with an amused look, pressed lips and warm eyes.

“ _So_. Looks like we’ve got time.” He didn’t disguise the delight in his tone even as he pushed back the wet hair clinging to his forehead and exposing large ears. Perhaps usually a charming insecurity.

“Tell me about yourself Rey. What is it you’ve always wished to do? What are you passionate about?”

His questions caught her off-guard, as did the unfamiliar loosening of her tongue and his large hand that settled comfortingly on her shoulder when she talked about her background. What had led to her ending up around the shipyards on Allanteen, of all places.

She stripped to her singlet and rubbed down her sticky arms with her damp over-shirt in the airless room, hearing a small hitch of breath.

Extracted a hairpin from her usual half-bun and set to work on the lock as he shifted closer to her side and answered her every question about the ship that turned out to have always been his part-time family home, split between Alderaan with his mother’s position in government.

Some amusing family friction there.

Ben was ten years her senior, liked calligraphy and several forms of fighting, and – he really impressed upon her – he and Han never ran weapons. Never would either.

Rey told him she didn’t have time for hobbies these days, but had always liked fixing things with her hands. Pulling apart the innards of ships and trying to imagine how they’d be to fly.

“But I haven’t even been orbital since I caught the transport here. First and last time in the stars.”

Ben looked sad and thoughtful. “You know I—”

The door clicked unlocked and Rey gave a triumphant yell, wrenching it open.

“ _Hmm_ … beautiful Rey has a few suspect skills of her own. Full of tricks.” His eyes danced, a small smile pulling at his maddeningly full mouth.

“And the Jawa calls the Ewok short, I’m sure,” she scoffed, but thrummed with secret happiness at his impressed face.

“Oh sweetheart, I’ve got tricks you haven’t yet seen. Though I wish you would.”

Ben winked on his way out the door and she found no retort, left to mull over her blush and jittery feet at a table with both Rose and Finn suspiciously busy.

* * *

The eleventh time is right now.

Han knocks on the door to her office in the morning, popping his head through with a familiar grin. His regular deliveries have really been turning things around.

“So happens I’ve got some time free and I may have already roped Rose and Finn in on this, but would you like to take the Falcon up? They’ll cover for you, said it was one of your quieter nights.”

It is – the elder Solo has another offer she can’t refuse. Her pulse races, she doesn’t even want to.

His eyes crinkle at her wide smile, ushering her through the back door to the bar and across to the Falcon in hangar one. She’s magnificent, just as she was the first and fifth times Rey had a spy.

The docking ramp lowers and she rushes ahead, only to hear a stumble and a curse from behind. Han is nursing his leg, although it’s very flat ground, with an intense expression of pain.

Rey’s heart falls along with her face.

He gestures for her to continue up and she’s not sure exactly what she’s supposed to achieve on her own, but he’s already hobbling off somewhat dramatically. Muttering about finding the starport’s doctors.

There’s a noise of boots on metal above her and a pair of long, loosely swaggering legs that can only be Ben’s appear at the top of the ramp.

“Don’t be disappointed sweetheart, you can take it out as much as you want. I mean the ship, of course.”

She can only roll her eyes at their hereditary antics and is no longer surprised at the curve of her lips matching his, her heating cheeks, or the pooling, fluttering warmth.

He insists she takes the captain’s chair and her eyes prickle.

Shooting her a glance he works his jaw, keeping his gaze focussed on the switches and dials as he guides her through prepping for lift-off.

“You know… I think you can do whatever you want to do, Rey. You don't have to be tied down here. There's... another option, if you want it.”

Ben’s voice cracks and her own breath lodges in her throat.

They raise the Falcon up and her heart is beating in her ears, more vital than it’s been since she can remember. She searches for something to say that conveys how she feels but he beats her to it with a smirk and an eyebrow.

“Wanna burn sky ’til we see lines? Make a short jump?”

She realises as she’s giving it that this is her first full, unreserved, joyful grin in his direction. Her first loud, elated laugh.

Ben is motionless. He looks like he might cry.

* * *

The twelfth time follows right on the wing of the eleventh, less of a separate occasion and more of a resulting tailgate.

She’s buoyed up by piloting, by Ben’s praise at how quickly she’s picking this up. By the stars outside the portholes. And the company beside her. By things fitting into place.

When Ben clears his throat, switches on the autopilot and turns the co-pilot’s chair toward her with that familiar, heated look… she lets herself bite her lip and return it, for another first time.

It’s worth it for how quickly nervous shock replaces squared-shouldered confidence, for how his usually quick mouth swallows its words, gapes and snaps shut.

His bunk extends with the push of a button, it turns out. A mercy she assumes necessary with his height and bulk.

His lips are hot and insistent on hers, tongue licking into her mouth and finding the sweetest points of pleasure on her jaw, her neck, her arms.

Yet Ben’s hands are gentle and trembling as he undresses her and removes the pins from her hair. The words he whispers into her skin are strange to her ears – but his tone tells her all she needs to know.

_Turhaya, min tejha larel…_

_Cyar’ika…_

Yes. For a while now she’s suspected that here, with her, like this, he would have none of that guff.

It’s with reverence that his tongue traces over her taut nipples until they redden and swell. Gaze so tender through his lashes she almost has to look away – she can’t mistake its meaning.

Pleased rumbles at each noise of her pleasure.

His hands— yes those fingers really are quite large this close. But so is the rest of him and he wants to take his time, stroking through her coarse hair and rubbing the firm little bud where she’s slickest until she cries out and her legs shake.

Only to pull himself down the bed with a hungry, dimpling smile and continue with his mouth, working her to a second height with two wide fingers focussed on a spot he’s found inside her.

His careful attentions and praise whenever his lips are unoccupied make it easier and more enjoyable than she’d ever thought it could be. There’s really no comparison to her long-held assumptions about the fuss around all of this with a partner.

Part of her past assessment of his prior activities must have been right, at least, but she's not complaining now.

_Her_ fingers, however, remain empty of anything below his thick, lush hair. His smooth-skinned, ivory shoulders. He’s so focussed on her pleasure – batting aside her hands questing for his hardened length. Coming up for air reluctantly when she tries to squirm away, too sensitised.

He looks disappointed until she opens her mouth.

“Ben, I want to… I’m glad it’s with you. For my first time.”

Her voice comes out less confidently than she’d like but he doesn’t seem to mind.

No – his expression flicks through shock and heat and that aching tenderness.

When he settles himself between her legs his eyes are damp.

His kisses are sweet and luxurious, his neck and jaw so tense as he pushes inside her – just slowly. It’s a lot to take in, quite literally, but she’s so wet and pliant there’s barely a pinch.

He voices her feelings, moving on top of her, when she’s unable to form words at this pressure of emotion pushing out from her chest.

“ _Perfect_ , you’re pure sabacc. _Gods Rey_ , I’ve been in love with you for _so long_ , you’re brilliant, so beautiful, but I kept saying all the wro—”

She silences his mouth with hers, clenches her slick walls on the building sensation against that point inside her, encourages his thrusts faster with her heels in the meat of his thighs.

When his hips falter and his breath hitches in a low groan and he spills inside her, she’s there too. He moves her through it with his face buried wet against her neck.

Her long moan of a deeper sort of heart-filled satisfaction echoes off the Falcon’s bulkheads. Outside and in her head as well, there’s nothing but stars.

* * *

The times after this blur into each other, being that they spend barely any of it apart.

Han claims he’s been looking to retire and Ben jumps in with eager corroboration that his mom has been requesting this for years… some of her husband’s activities have been a long-term risk to her profile.

The captain’s quarters on the Falcon are more comfortable than his childhood space, even if Ben needs some initial encouragement to shift into the bed in which he claims he was probably conceived. But Rey has learnt that with him, it doesn’t take much for her to be very persuasive.

Rose and Finn barely managed to pretend surprise at her quick decision and prove more than capable – and perhaps more patient, definitely more willing – as a team to run her bar. From the way they’d sprung apart in the storeroom as she’d gone to check on stock before departure, she suspects teamwork on a long-term level as well.

She’d threatened to return the favour and lock them inside.

* * *

It’s the seventh full week of the bliss of stars outside her windows, new sights and sounds and flavours, hot places and cold. All sorts of exotic yellow flowers.

Of new skills and dirty fingernails, although Ben refuses to let her build and fly an ugly.

Of good hauls and successful deliveries.

She learns the difference between a blue milk run and why sometimes the alias Kylo really _is_ essential. It’s not necessarily more dubious work than that inherited accounting.

Warm, strong arms wrap her safely each night and cage her in with sleepy complaints when she tries to rise each morning.

A constant, busy, distracting happiness like she has always wanted.

Rey wakes nauseous for the third time, but insistent enough on this particular morning that she pushes Ben’s heavy arm off roughly, ignoring his grunt of concern as she runs for the fresher.

Recognition striking that she’s missed something important, something she’d also not considered when he’d pulled her from the captain’s chair and barraged her with kisses on the way to his bunk.

Implants are common as mud – Rose has one – but she’d never felt the need. He’d been shamefaced after their first time together and produced prophylactics from his bedside, but she’d just shrugged – there’d been a lot else taking their attention in that moment.

All of this newness was worth it.

How lovely to be relaxed enough to forget _anything_ for the first time in years. Although perhaps not her last cycle.

His voice calls worried through the door and the button slides it open with a hiss to a lumbering nude form. Anxious dark eyes and bed-creased cheeks, framed with hair in angled clumps.

He follows her movements as she rinses and wipes her mouth.

Grasping his hands she jostles him toward her. Remembering another time – she can’t resist.

Drawing his palms down to her still flat belly she makes her voice sweet and earnest.

“ _I do apologise_ for making you worried,” she grins. “ _Let me make it up to you one on one_. Although this is more one plus two.”

The dawning realisation and delight in that dark brown and amber is an answer to all her unvoiced hopes and questions.

“ _Ben_ , I think I might be—”

He cuts her off with a thunk of his knees on the metal in front of her, burying his face against her stomach. A soft, hoarse, joyous noise in the back of his throat.

_“Oh gods,_ thank you,” he breathes into kisses on her skin. _“Thank you_ cyar’ika.”

* * *

Ben toys with the small gold band on the chain around the freckled, very sun-kissed neck of his wife lying sleepily beside him. Her fingers have been too swollen to fit it for a while now.

It’s only mid afternoon and there’s a shipment he should be reviewing but Rey is more tired in her eighth month. Her large, taut belly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, resting against a pillow as he cradles her back against him.

He finds it difficult now not to hover around her, waiting for a request or demand or just seeing that she’s comfortable. Wondering anxiously if it’s time. Still tentative in trusting that this happiness is really his life.

“Oof,” she hisses out a breath. “Active today, I barely slept last night. I blame your enormous feet you out-sized icetromper. Feel!”

Ben lets her place his palm below her widely flared ribs with smiling eyes that follow her gaze down. There’s a sharp kick against his hand and he bites back a laugh.

This scowl on her face like he’d first fallen in love with – well, he knows better now than to test her temper by pointing out this is expected, given his size vs hers.

Soothing his palm over the smooth roundness instead, knowing he’s chosen the right option by the release in her shoulders and her sigh.

“Shhh be gentle with your mother, littlest big Solo.”

He traces one of the purpled lines in the skin of her hip with deeply satisfied awe, chest tight with overwhelming emotion. _He_ did this, her form the ultimate proof.

But she’s doing _all of this_ for them now.

“As long as they don’t have my mouth to get them into trouble,” he murmurs grinning against her hair.

“Are you kidding me?” she grunts. “I’ve met all your family, they’ll _definitely_ have your mouth. Besides…”

Rey snuggles back further against him with a soft laugh. “Turns out this is the kind of trouble I needed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are ❤️❤️
> 
> Dirt flyer – an in-atmosphere pilot.
> 
> [Allanteen](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Allanteen_Six) (AKA Allanteen VI) – Expansion Region planet known for its shipyards, on the [Corellian Run](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Corellian_Run/Legends) (maps hnnggg).
> 
> E chu ta! – apparently untranslatably rude (Huttese).
> 
> Frang – expletive (Twi'lek).
> 
> Flyboy – pilot of a small ship.
> 
> Chuba! – Hey you! Literally, a toad-like animal (Huttese).
> 
> Peedunky – punk (Huttese).
> 
> Ofax ets burrin tehn – 'the air is too heavy here', i.e. 'I have a bad feeling about this' (Old Corellian).
> 
> Damp down your power core – cool down (Han Solo-ism).
> 
> Ben's flowers are [starflowers](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Starflower/Legends).
> 
> [Alpha-3 Nimbus-class V-wing starfighter](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Alpha-3_Nimbus-class_V-wing_starfighter/Legends).
> 
> [YT-series](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/YT-series/Legends).
> 
> Sleemo – slimeball (Huttese).
> 
> Pateesa – sweetheart, friend (Huttese).
> 
> Poodoo – fodder (Huttese).
> 
> R'iia's shorts – Jakku-ism based around the angry elemental goddess R'iia.
> 
> [Corellian whiskey](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Corellian_whiskey/Legends).
> 
> Spacer – person who mostly lives on spaceships, not planetside.
> 
> Lumrunner – experienced smuggler who makes difficult runs commonplace.
> 
> The Jawa calls the Ewok short – being hypocritical.
> 
> Burn sky ’til we see lines – fly until we reach hyperspace.
> 
> Turhaya – bright star (Old Corellian).
> 
> Min tejha larel – my undying love (Old Corellian).
> 
> Cyar’ika – beloved (Mando’a).
> 
> Pure sabacc – perfect, a winning sabacc hand.
> 
> [Ugly](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ugly/Legends) – a starfighter cobbled together from crashed and salvaged parts. Famously low survivability.
> 
> Blue milk run – an uneventful run.
> 
> [Icetromper](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Icetromper/Legends).


End file.
